Che bandoneón!

The spirit of your sound, hey bandoneon,
takes pity on the pain of others,
and as it squeezes your sleepy bellows
it gets closer to the heart that suffers the most.
Estercita and Mimí like Ninón,
leaving their fates of percale
they dressed in the end with rayon shrouds,
to the funeral echo of your song.

Bandoneon,
tonight is a night of revelry
and I can confess the truth to you,
glass by glass, sorrow by sorrow, tango by tango,
wrapped in the madness
of alcohol and bitterness.
Bandoneon,
why mention her so much,
don't you see that the heart is in oblivion
and she returns night after night like a song
in the drops of your tears,
hey bandoneon!

Your song is the love that was not given
and the sky we once dreamed of,
and the fraternal friend who sank
struggling in the storm of a love.
And those tremendous urges to cry
that sometimes flood us for no reason,
and the drink that forces us to remember
if the soul is offside, hey bandoneon.